


In which Kuzy and Schmidty compete for Holtby's loooooove

by WeagleRock



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Bets & Wagers, Gen, Humor, Team Bonding, Washington Capitals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-30
Updated: 2018-01-30
Packaged: 2019-03-10 09:03:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13498830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WeagleRock/pseuds/WeagleRock
Summary: Loooooove is in the air. Also, the Caps locker room.It might've put sand in Holtby's shorts.





	In which Kuzy and Schmidty compete for Holtby's loooooove

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Thorne](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thorne/gifts).



> This is a tumblr ficlet that I wrote for Thorne ... quite awhile ago. I meant to do a light cleanup and post it to AO3, and now I have! Thank you for the prompt and many, many inspiring conversations.

“Holts,” Kuzy said. “Holts!”

Braden lifted his eyes from his book and saw a grinning Kuzy leaning over the bus seat in front of him. “Uh, hi?”

“You forgive me, right? For time I score on you at prospect camp?”

It took Braden a moment to remember what he was talking about. “You mean when you skated into my crease and laughed at me for not stopping the puck?”

Kuzy nodded. “Yes, and then you knock me on ass and tell media I’m probably bad teammate after.”

“That was, like, six or seven years ago.”

“Yeah, but you forgive?”

“… yes?”

Kuzy pumped his fist and looked straight at the guy sitting next to Braden. “See! I explain you!”

“No way,” Schmidty said. “Holts holds a grudge like no other, and that’s his grudge face.”

“Fuck you,” Kuzy said. “That’s just his face. He say he forgive. Tell him, Holts. Tell him you forgive.”

Braden looked between Kuzy and Schmidty, at their near-identical manic grins. “I don’t know what this is, but I’m staying the fuck out of it.”

Schmidty crowed. “See? Grudge face. I get five points.”

“He didn’t  _say_  grudge,” Kuzy said. “We still tie at zero.”

Braden opened his mouth, closed it again, and then refocused on his book. He was staying the fuck out of it. Whatever  _it_  was.

#

 _It_  involved flowers, apparently. And chocolate. And … rope? 

“For your cows.” Kuzy patted Braden’s shoulder. “You have ranch, yes?”

“My parents have a cattle ranch. I live in Old Town.”

“You never know.” Kuzy looked hopeful, like a ranch might still materialize at any moment. “Never know when you might need lasso.”

#

“It’s to help you hone your goalie zen powers.” Schmidty gestured toward the fully assembled desktop rock garden now sitting at the bottom of Braden’s locker. “It has some of those balls you like. You know, for before games.”

Braden blinked at the small, blue balls carefully arranged around the miniature rock garden’s miniature rake. They were, in fact, the same kind he used in his pre-game warmups. “Thanks, man.”

“Five points!” Schmidty yelled.

“There better not be sand in my shorts.” Braden did know these people.

“Minus two!” Ovi shouted.

Braden raised an eyebrow in Ovi’s direction.

“Kuzy not here yet.” Ovi shrugged. “Someone have to keep track of game and not just let Schmidty decide everything.”

“I’m ignoring all of this,” Braden said.

“Ten points for Holts.” Nicky didn’t bat an eye when Ovi raised his arms in protest. “What? He’s obviously playing, too.”

#

It appeared on the board the next day: a small chart with an H, K, and S, followed by what Braden could only assume were point totals: zero for Kuzy, three for Schmidty, ten for him. Braden didn’t know what the game was, or why they were playing, but it was nice to know he was in the lead.

At least it seemed that way until Orpy cornered him before lunch. He squeezed Braden’s shoulder with a firm hand. “Look, you gotta throw Kuzy a bone, here.”

“Uh?”

“Tell me something you like. Anything you like. Or something he can do for you. I think I talked him out of sending you roses, but Ovi’s a bad influence. He’s gonna have him delivering heart-shaped pizzas and hiring fucking skywriters.”

“Skywriters.”

“If it comes to that.” Orpy looked grim.

“Wait,” Braden said. “Does Kuzy really not know anything I like?”

“He does. He’s just overthinking. You know how he gets.” Orpy stared at Braden. His eyes looked wilder by the second. “Other people can give him bad ideas when he’s like this. Do you want him to get bad ideas? Or do you want me to give him one good idea that will make you happy and get him five points on the fucking board?”

Was that what Schmidty and Kuzy were doing? Competing to … make Braden happy? Gain his favor? It didn’t quite square with the forgiveness thing on the bus, but all right.

“Beer,” Braden said. “I like beer.”

#

The next day, there were two four-packs of beer in Braden’s locker.

“Thanks?” Braden announced his gratitude to no one in particular. Both Schmidty and Kuzy starting shouting that they’d earned five points.

“But he cheat!” Kuzy pointed at Schmidty. “He figure out my next idea!”

“If you’re gonna get the Russians and the blueline for help, I get the backup goalie,” Schmidty said. “It’s not my fault he overheard you and Orpy.”

Braden looked toward Grubi, who gave him a small salute.

Okay, then.

#

“I’d let you shave my head,” Schmidty said on the team plane. “ _Again_.”

“He hates that and freak out halfway through,” Kuzy said. “So I _never_.”

“Can I just give myself ten points?” Braden asked Nicky.

“I’ll allow it.”

#

Braden figured the game would end at some point. Like, the first person to get to thirty points would win, and that would be that. But the competition between Schmidty and Kuzy just kept going, and going, and …

Braden found a sweet Varvatos blazer with a even sweeter pocket square in the dressing room, courtesy of Kuzy, who thought it should be worth at least forty points. “I got measurements from team! Has ‘Holtbeast’ stitched in lining!”

That was followed by Schmidty taking Braden out to a nice dinner with Mom and Dad Schmidt, which he argued should net him thirty-two points, if not thirty-five. “It’s, like, sentimental. I took him to meet my mom!”

“He meet your mom already!”

“And that jacket's last-season!”

“Fifteen for both,” ruled Nicky.

Braden appreciated at least half his gifts, and that the whole team was having fun, and how Kuzy and Schmidty saved him the banana bread from team breakfast.

“Inadmissible,” Nicky said. “I’d like to get some again before the end of the season.”

But the whole thing was also getting old.

Braden brought it up with Schmidty on a sight-seeing trip in Calgary. “Look, it was fun for awhile, but I’m getting tired of this thing between you and Kuzy. I don’t need any more zen crystals or pocket squares. The beer's okay, I guess, but only if you’re coming over to help me drink it.”

Schmidty looked a little like a kicked puppy, but he bounced back after a half second. “Aw, man. Okay. If that’s what you want.”

“It is.” Braden scuffed some dirt with his boot. “You’re my best friend on the team. You shouldn’t need my approval this bad.”

“It’s not about—” Schmidty stopped. “Oh, shit. You never knew what we were competing for, did you?”

#

“They were battling for your love,” Nicky said. “Don’t ask me. I didn’t tell them to do this.”

“Uh, the rope?”

“Ovi’s idea. Maybe don’t ask him.”

“Is there anything I  _can_ ask?”

Nicky blinked. “No? I mean, I wouldn’t.”

Braden crossed his arms over his chest. “What did the winner get?”

“Your heart, obviously. And five hundred dollars from the loser, also.”

“ _That’s it_?”

“Yeah, you can probably do better than those two.” Nicky patted Braden’s arm. 

#

“Hey,” Kuzy said the next day, after practice. “Schmidty tell me you call everything off. Sorry if fight for your love get little bit out of hand.” 

“It’s cool. Weird, but cool. I just didn’t know what you were doing.” Braden hugged Kuzy’s shoulders. “There’s nothing to forgive from prospect camp, just so you know. It was forever ago. I got pissed and ran my mouth off. I did that a lot back then. You’re a good teammate, Kuz. And the blazer’s fucking awesome.” 

Kuzy looked legitimately pleased, right before he laughed. “Just yesterday, this worth so many points.” 

“My love’s worth more than five hundred bucks.” 

“Hmmmm.”

“It’s worth  _way_  more than five hundred bucks.”

Kuzy shrugged beneath Braden’s arm. “I dunno, your friendship don’t keep me so warm at night, not put food in stomach …”

Braden’s hug became a little less friendly.

“Shit, wrestling?” Schmidty said. “I’m glad you didn’t start this earlier. Yesterday, that would’ve been a fuckload of points.”

#

“So who wins?” Ovi said. “Pretty sure Kuzy and Schmidty lose when Holts tell them they need stop loving him so hard, and Holts never declare love for himself, either. It’s no fun if there’s no winner. Gotta pick somebody.”

“If you say so.” Like Nicky hadn’t inserted himself into every part of this. “I dunno. Holts, show us who you love.” 

Braden weighed his options, then pointed to Burkie. 

“Sweeeeeet,” Burkie said. 

“You’re buying dinner,” Nicky told him. 

“Then I take it back. He’s all yours.” 

“The heart wants what it wants,” Ovi said. “Especially goalie’s heart. Come on, Burkie. You ride with me. That way I give you rope talk.”

“Uh, you mean shovel talk?” Schmidty asked.

“I say what I mean.”

#

Braden ended up driving Schmidty and Kuzy to Virtue Feed and Grain, his choice for dinner, while the rest of the team split into different cars. Or, Braden tried to drive them. He was barely into Old Town before he met stopped traffic.

“Holy shit,” Schmidty said. “Are there animals in the road?”

Braden peered over his windshield and saw big, black shapes trotting across pavement. Shapes that had no business being in any road near Old Town Alexandria. “How the hell did steers get loose here?”

“ _Steers_. That’s like  _cows_.” Kuzy started cackling. He leaned forward from the backseat and thumped Braden’s arm. “What I say before? Always good thing to have lasso.”

###

**Author's Note:**

> I'm weaglerock on tumblr.


End file.
